


Message, Man

by lorrcan



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, M/M, cyborg!josh, repairman!tyler
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2018-07-27 05:37:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7605733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorrcan/pseuds/lorrcan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler's a simple repairman working his shift, fixing AIs and programming software.  He doesn't expect to come across an AI that has human skin and a warm nose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sing With Me If You Know What I'm Talking About

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from heavydirtysoul

A man wearing a fabric fedora comes walking into the repair shop’s front doors, doffing the hat in a respectful manner as Tyler looks up from the order log.  Tyler curses mentally, initially upset at the man’s appearance so close to closing time, but plasters a smile on his lips and says hello. 

“Hi, uh, I’ve been told this is where you can drop off faulty AI?” he says, wringing his hands together.  “I’m jus’ passin’ through, but got somethin’… fuckin’ heavy on the back a’ my truck.” 

Tyler licks his lips slowly, careful not to over analyze this guy.  “Yeah, this is the place,” he says.  “You can pull around back and just drop off whatever.  There are signs and shit to guide you.  How much does it weigh?”

“Hundred somethin’?” the man answers, eyebrows stitching together in thought.  “I mean, m’not sure—”

“It’s a twenty smacker fee either way, man.” 

He sighs, but approaches the counter with his wallet being pulled out of his pants pocket.  “D’ya take checks?”

Tyler nods his head and sits back in his chair, thumbing through more order logs.  “Make it out to _Eshleman’s_.”

The man silently slides the check over, smiles, and leaves the front of the shop.  Tyler scoffs at the sloppy cursive scrawled across paper from the west—accent shows a lot—but shoves it in the register to be transferred tomorrow.  The man’s truck rumbles through the quiet night, over the old gravel and sand, making its slow path to the back.  It’s so silent that he can hear the man curse out when something hits the cement slab back there and kick his foot on the side of the build.  Tyler rolls his eyes, slamming the book shut, and stands from his seat. 

From there, he moves to the back and sheds his work shirt on the way, tossing it in his duffle bag.  He throws on a clean sweatshirt in place and already decides he’ll take a shower in the morning.  He is tired and hungry and knows a shower will just make him pass out in the tub whether he wants to or not.  Tyler throws his tool belt in his respective locker, locking it and then moving to the front, flipping the open sign to closed and locking up the front door.  He draws the sliver shades over the panel windows and turns off the door’s automatic light.  Mark trusts him to close up more than he trusts Ash or Hayley, since Ash likes to pry apart new mother boards and build tiny pet robots to nip at Tyler’s ankles at seven in the morning and Hayley likes to paint new designs on metal arms and Mark’s locker door. 

 Tyler walks to the drop off and slides open the grate.  The man left a burlap sack in the drop off, synched at the top with frayed rope.  He nudges the bag with his toe, finding something soft and squishy instead of cold metal like usual.  He shrugs it off as the guy wrapped his faulty AI in bubble wrap or pillows, because there is always some freak dropping off weird things in the back of the shop.  The worst thing they’ve ever received was a deer carcass from the north that was shipped.  Tyler couldn’t stop gagging for hours after disposal. 

He drags in the heavy bag, bringing it up on a silver table in the back room.  Mark usually wants things stripped right away in case there is catastrophic damage and needs attention right away.  Tyler sighs, runs a greasy hand through his hair, and stumbles to the front desk.  He punches in Mark’s number and sits back. 

“What the fuck, Tyler?” grumbles Mark.  “You need to go home.”

“Look, someone dropped faulty AI before closing and I needed to know if you wanted me to strip it now or leave until morning?”

Mark hums softly in thought.  “How big is it?”

Tyler snorts through his nose.  “Big, man.  Like this guy had some real cash to get this type of AI.” 

“Is it pretty?” 

“Haven’t looked, but the heavier the shit, the better the malware, right?  That’s the slogan we go by?” 

He scoffs at Tyler’s stupidity.  “Call Ash and see if she’ll come out to run diagnostics.  I’ll meet you guys there.”

Tyler hangs up without a goodbye, then dials in Ash’s number, tapping his foot.  She answers with a snarl, but Tyler tells her there is new AI to pry apart and she giggles, agreeing to bring Tyler coffee if she’s allowed to program her new software with extra pieces.  He just says yes so he can get his coffee and feel somewhat awake. 

He saunters back to the back room and flicks on a light besides the emergency ones piercing through the darkness.  He’s never felt uneasy about a drop off before in his entire life—excluding the deer— because all of the AI’s are “dead” or have malfunctioned and are scrapped right away.  As Tyler unties the rope from the top of the sack, his breath hitches at the sound of soft whirring, almost like another breath is being taken.  But, it could just be some equipment cooling off and sizzling.  It was a busy and late night and Tyler is exhausted; things become delirious in his head. 

As soon as the rope falls to the floor, hands shoot out from the bag, wrapping around Tyler’s throat.  He doesn’t even have a chance to scream, eyes bulging out of his head as the hands wrench his throat like a kid would in a game a rattlesnake.  Except this isn’t a game and Tyler can’t fucking _breathe_.  He slams his hand into the body’s chest, but the heel of his palm hits something solid and his whole arm rattles with pain, mouth opening with a silent cry. 

His vision is blackening at the edges and his heartbeat is so loud in his ears, but it’s an angle where Tyler can’t even kick at the rouge AI.  He struggles with all his might though, wriggling and pinching at anything.  Blood rushes to his face, heat pools in his diaphragm, head becoming the color white.  He claws at the hands, hoping the grip will break, but the only thing that happens is the AI takes hold of both his wrists in one hand and tightens around his throat with the other.  His head sparks, sizzles, and begins to melt.  Tyler feels like he’s dying, knows he’s dying, choking on what was in his chest and the fresh will to live. 

Far off, a door opens, gears grinding together to squeal like little piggies from the north.  “Tyler?” Mark calls. 

The fingers tighten and his eyes are watering, tears running down his heated cheeks.  Tyler’s shoulders are shaking with pure adrenaline, white hot and coursing through his nerve endings.  He yanks frantically, but the bones in his wrists are cracking.

“Holy fuck, Tyler!”

Something drops and shoes scrape across the shop’s flooring, but he’s still dying as Mark talks quickly, pulls at the fingers attempting to murder him.  Mark scampers to a tool chest behind Tyler.  Metal clanks and screeches together, chilling Tyler through his numb bones.  The fingers are truly hungry, out for blood, out for death and at this point, Tyler can’t put with it anymore.  His fight is too weak against the AI.

Ash comes in at one point and screams, jolting Tyler from his blank state.  He hears the coffee cups fall and splash over the cement floor, a sadness threading through his chest.  She runs over and caresses hands over his cheeks, wiping tears from his eyes, own tears clustering in the corner of her eyes.  “Hey, it’s okay, Ty.  Jus’ keep breathin’, sweetheart, and Mark’ll get you out.”

She holds his hands as Mark quickly digs through his own locker, tearing out the emergency kit hidden in the back of it.  Tyler tries to watch from the corner of his eye, but it’s dark there, as if the room is disappearing.  Mark sprints over with a shocker in his hands, slamming the prongs into the inside elbow of the AI’s arm.  The shock runs through the malware, probably ruining something precious and helpful, but the fingers finally release and Tyler falls flat on his ass, coughing and retching.  He ends up throwing up whatever he ate for lunch as Ash rubs his spine through his sweatshirt, combing back loose hairs. 

“Mark, g-get some water and paper towel,” says Ash. 

Tyler cries, hands shaking in front of his eyes.  His ribs are containing his lungs from breathing in the air he so desperately needs and craves.  “A-Ash,” he rasps. 

“Shh, honey, s’okay.”  She pulls him close to her chest, wiping the lower half of his face with something gentle, then places a glass to his lips and urges him to drink.  “You’re okay, I promise.”

He gurgles the water, pain twinging as he swallows down the liquid.  Ash cradles his head close to her shoulder, shushing his cries, massaging his still shaky back, and willing him to sleep. 

  
.00001

  
Ash hands Tyler his fourth cup of tea, hoping it’ll help the scratchiness in his throat, but he knows it’s just swollen to the point where he constantly sounds like he’s wheezing.  Hayley’s joined the three and came clamoring in like the world was ending, shouting about government conspiracy theories and how they’re out to kill Tyler.  Mark shot her down almost immediately with one knife sharp glare. 

“Is it…” Ash starts, eyes glassy as she looks to Mark.  “Is it respondin’ to anythin’?”

“No.  The diagnostics aren’t working, and I’m really starting to, uh, to think it’s not AI.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Hayley snaps. 

He sighs, eyes drifting to the floor.  “Just… lemme show you something.” 

The workers follow to where Mark has been stationed all morning, Tyler latching onto Ash’s hand as they stumble in.  The previously thought faulty AI is strung up to the ceiling with wrists tied together with thick chains, toes barely skimming the ground below its slightly swaying form.  Its chest and legs are bare, just a pair of briefs hugging its hips.  But that’s the least of everyone’s worries. 

The AI’s chest is half of the usual titanium they see, splitting down the middle from his right shoulder down to his left hip.  The other half is human flesh, real life human flesh.  It’s pale, but flushed a bright red, twitching as its eyes twitch.  The face is human like—normal since AI’s these days are made to look more humanoid—but the hair is a vibrant purple, right arm tattooed with colors even Tyler couldn’t imagine up.  Its left arm and left leg are mostly metal, but with muscle tone and shape of real limbs.  Tyler is in awe with how docile the AI looks, eyes shut and eyelashes spread out over its cheeks.  Besides the metal and the many different wires sticking out of its head and arms, it looks normal.

“What the fuck is this?” Hayley mumbles.  “Can it be turned on?”

“I’ve been trying,” says Mark, turning back to his computer.  “I haven’t been getting anything back from the programs and if I have, it’s all in a different language.” 

Tyler hesitantly steps towards it, stretching an injured limb towards the body.  He hears Mark gasp, but shakes it off and skims a single finger over the AI’s nose.  It’s warm. 

“It’s warm,” he whispers, carefully cradling his wrist to his chest.  After a refusal to the medical center nearby, Hayley wrapped both his wrists in soft bandages that hold the joints in place.  “AI’s aren’t warm.”

“Well it ain’t human, Tyler,” says Ash.  “It almost fuckin’ killed you.”

“I _know_ ,” he snaps.  “But I also know when AI’s are faulty, they don’t attack, even the fighting ones.  We need to get it awake and talking.” 

Tyler glances back at it, tilts its chin back towards the ceiling.  He finds a thin band colored golden embedded in the skin there.  Touching it, it’s a vibrating feeling that runs briefly through Tyler’s arm, rattling in his tendons and ligaments. 

“Hand me a butterfly’s cut,” he orders, holding out a hand.  It’s filled with a thin tool, a sharp blade at the end.  He snips at the two sides and gently tugs it out of his skins, blood beading to the surface.  His lips purse at that.  “He’s bleeding.”

Hayley snorts.  “That’s not possible.”

“You think I’m delusional?” he snaps, whirling around.  He shoves a blood covered finger to her face.  “That is not mine, Hayley!  That AI is not just a fucking _robot_!”

The room falls eerily silent and it hurts Tyler’s head more than he thought possible. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes.  “I’m just confused.”

Hayley doesn’t respond; Tyler knows she’s not the type to forgive easily, like Ash.  She’ll say it’s okay even if you would accidentally cut her arm or break some of her programming. 

“Uh, try running diagnostics again,” he tells Mark.  “The gold might’ve been blocking a signal.”

Mark’s eyes fill with worry.  “Are you sure, Tyler?  Maybe we should all go home and sleep on this.”

“Sleep on what?  Sleep on the fact that this… thing almost killed me and it’s not even AI?  No, I wanna get this done and over with.”

He shifts uncomfortably and glances at the body, then making eye contact with Tyler.  “I’m always your friend before I am your boss, okay?  And as your _friend_ I really think you should go home and sleep, eat something.  We can all come back tomorrow and figure things out.”

Ash clears her throat.  “I can call a buddy of mine and see if she knows anything about this.  I learned all my programming from her, so she knows more than me.”

“Yeah, see?  We can take a break; everything’ll be here tomorrow.”

Tyler looks down at his shoes, neck twitching.  His throat and head hurt, wrists throbbing, so yeah, going home sounds fucking great.  It’s the place where he can crash and probably sleep for a whole entire day.  But he also wants to stay, and Mark won’t let him unless Tyler goes home. 

“Okay, yeah, we’ll start over tomorrow.”

  
.00002

  
Tyler arrives back to the shop four hours after leaving.  Thankfully, no one is there when he enters, but there’s a faint rattling coming from the back.  He sighs, breath wheezing, and walks to the back. 

The AI’s eyes are open, fingers twisted in the chains.  It gasps loudly and squeezes its eyes shut. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Tyler growls, almost annoyed.  “Last thing I need is you to hurt _me_ again.”

But the AI just starts crying, large tears rolling down its face, chains clinking together as it struggles and thrashes. 

Tyler rolls his eyes as he approaches.  He takes a hold of the AI’s hair, tugging so his face is line up with the AI’s.  Eyes desperately search his face, bottom lip twitching.  “Talk,” Tyler orders. 

It shrinks back as much as it can, which isn’t far, but it presses its lips together. 

It dawns on Tyler. 

“You can’t.”  He sighs.  “Do you have a compartment?” 

The AI looks extremely confused, and Tyler rolls his eyes and walks to his back. 

The compartment is the smallest one Tyler has ever seen, maybe a few inches tall and wide, set towards the AI’s lower back, and sloped inwards with a curve of a normal spine.  It pops open easily, a few wires and microchips falling onto the floor.  The slot is E-grade, but the chip inside is fried, most likely from when Mark electrocuted it to get it off Tyler. 

“I’m getting a chip for you,” he says.  “Don’t fuckin’ move.”

Tyler walks to the supply room, skimming over the labels and boxes, luckily finding an E-grade chip behind the thousands of B-grade chips.  That’s enough to tell Tyler this AI is fucking expensive and the guy who dropped him off had to have some serious smacker from the west.  Probably an illegal drug ring. 

He comes back to the AI sniffling and hiccupping, tear tracks shining in the lights.  It gently wipes its face on its shoulder in shame, but Tyler ignores him and takes a pliers of a nearby repair cart.  Tyler hooks up the yellow and red wires, leaving some black ones with a confused look. 

“Say something.”

“’Say something,’” it parrots with a scratchy, but readable voice. 

Tyler hums in appeasement and closes the slim compartment.  “You have a name?”

“Donnie Darko.”  

He rolls his eyes.  “I’m not fucking calling you that.”

“I-I’m so-sorry,” it sobs, continuing to cry, body shaking.  “Pl-please, I don’t know wh-where I am.  Wh-why are y-you—”

Tyler narrows his eyes.  “You keep crying, I’ll never put a chip in you, got it?”

It whimpers softly, but nods its head and tampers down its cries.  “Can y-you tell me where I am?”

“SciColumbus.  Midwest.”

“SciColumbus?” it gasps.  “That’s not even a city.  I-I live in L.A.”  Tyler’s eyebrows furrow together.  “California?  Los Angeles?”

“I think you’re wired weird.”

“Wired!  What do you mean by that?” it demands. 

This is new.  Out of every single piece of AI that Tyler has worked on, not one has been able to keep up an intelligent conversation or be confused at what they are.  They always had some recognition and separation that they were AI and Tyler was human. 

“You’re AI,” Tyler says slowly. 

“Wait, like a robot?  You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

“No.  I’m not.”  Tyler pokes its stomach where the titanium is.  “What color is that?”

“C-color?  It’s my skin, asshole!”

 _Holy shit._ Tyler’s mind reels, electricity running through his scalp.  Everything about this wrong and is causing warning bells to ring throughout Tyler’s skull. 

“You think you’re human?”

“ _Think_?” it growls, eyes lit with a burning fire.  “I _am_ human!”

His heart is hammering fast on his rib cage, bones cracking under the pressure and weight.  In an instant, he’s moved to the gear release and slamming down on the red button.  A short horn blares first, then the infamous crack of the gear release rings out and the AI falls with a shout and a rattle of chains.  It immediately cowers to the wall, back pressed closed to the brick walls, and lifts its hands in surrender. 

“Pl-please, I’m _sorry_ ,” it sobs loudly.  “Don’t h-hurt me.  I-I didn’t mean t-to yell.”

Tyler wants to snarl, growl at it, put it in its place and show who’s the boss around here, but that part of him is overthrown by a piece that wants to be soft.  “Hey, it’s okay, Donnie,” Tyler says gently.  “Alright?  I’m not gonna hurt you at all.”

It hugs its legs close to its chest, rocking back at forth, mumbling under its breath.  It glances up at Tyler a few times, almost as if he holds the stare longer, he’ll be burned.  “I’m sorry,” it whispers. 

He takes slow steps towards the AI and kneels close, but give its enough space to breathe.  “It’s okay; I overreacted in this situation.  Can I take off the chains?”

It nods its head and offers both wrists to Tyler shakily.  “Th-thank you.”

“I’m Tyler, okay?  Are you hungry?”

“C-cold.”

Nodding, he unlocks the three padlocks before all the chains fall to the floor and the AI sighs.  “Okay.  Well, I can’t leave you here; do you want to come to my apartment?”

Tyler internally winces at his offer, still scared of it attacking him, but again, that soft part is louder and he’d rather listen to that than the cruel and rude part. 

“I-I’m…”  It looks around the floor.  “S-sure.”

He might regret this, but right now, as the AI takes Tyler’s hands and stands, he is sure that it is too scared to even think about hurting anyone. 


	2. They Told Me I Was Gone, They Told Me I Was Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joshua-Dun’s eyes shine with tears, but a bit of hope breaks through and he nods his head. “Please help me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from ode to sleep

“My name’s Joshua-Dun,” the AI says.  “Not Donnie Darko.  M’surprised you fell for that.”

Tyler glances over at Joshua-Dun in the passenger seat of his car, eyebrows furrowing once again.  He’s becoming to realize that this new person is more confusing than informing.  “I don’t know who Donnie Darko is.”

“You don’t?  Jake Gyllenhaal?  It’s a movie?”

“Nope,” says Tyler.  “What year do you think it is?”

“2016.”

He sputters a laugh.  “Yeah, there’s something wrong with you, Joshua-Dun.”

The AI shuts his mouth for the rest of the ride and doesn’t even talk as Tyler pulls into his parking garage. 

“Here,” says Tyler, shrugging off his jacket.  “I need you to wear this and keep your head down.  People shouldn’t be out, but if they see you, don’t say anything or even look at them.”

Joshua-Dun takes it and pulls it on, zippering it until it sits under its chin.  “Do I get pants?”

“No.”

He sees it frown slightly—which is a bit creepy; AI’s usually don’t emote sadness or frustration, or even fucking cry.  Tyler shakes it off and pulls Joshua-Dun to his apartment without fault or without anyone seeing.  Joshua-Dun’s uncovered metal foot thuds on the carpet and Tyler is warily aware of the sound reverberating through the walls and probably into the apartments around his own. 

But after dialing in his key code and shuffling Joshua-Dun in, Tyler breathes a sigh of relief. 

His apartment is the cheapest he found when he moved to SciColumbus, but it’s just enough room for him and maybe the occasional fling.  His living room is simply adorned with a sleek leather cough, pressed into the wall and sloping out into the corner where Tyler sometimes passes out as he watches the Sil-Screen planted on a matching stand.  The kitchen doesn’t have much counter space, but it doesn’t take much to make ham sandwiches or boil a pot of water for salted noodles.  In the back, he keeps his tools there, his home stand, and spare parts and work bench.  His bed is also in there, but usually if he’s not working, he’s sleeping on the couch. 

“I’ll get you some clothes, the bathroom is on the way.”

Joshua-Dun nods and follows.  It mutters a thanks before entering the bathroom and shutting the door. 

Tyler really, _really_ wishes he wasn’t in this situation where he’s torn between two choices.  It was easy when the AI didn’t have a face, a voice, a tremble to its heartbeat.  Now he’s scared and lost and probably wired wrong.  2016 was over nine thousand years ago and Joshua-Dun is talking some Jake Darko man?  Tyler doesn’t know what his previous owner had used to wire him, but it wasn’t anything up to AI standards passed within the past solar year. 

Tyler digs out a shirt and sweatpants from his closet for Joshua-Dun, shuffling back to the bathroom and knocking on the opaque plexi-glass.  

But he just hears more sobbing. 

Even though he’d usually be annoyed, he feels his heart crack in the center of his chest. 

“Joshua-Dun?  Can I come in?”

“No!” it shouts.  “Go aw-away!”

Tyler tugs on the knob, but finds it just rattles like those chains that were locked around Joshua-Dun’s wrists.  “Okay.  I’ll put the clothes by the door.  If you need anything, I’ll be on the couch.”

He leaves, although reluctant, and goes to find his phone.  Ash’s texted him a few times, called once, but he can tell her he was sleeping and she won’t question him at all.  He dials her back and opens his refrigeration unit, pausing at the thought of what the hell to feed this human/AI hybrid without ruining its insides. 

“Tyler!” Ash greets loudly.  “Why haven’cha been answerin’ me?”

“Sleeping,” he mumbles.  “I did almost die.”

She hums through the speaker.  “How’re you feelin’?”

“Um, I’m okay.”

“Liar.”

He groans, throwing his head back in exasperation.  “I shouldn’t be happy, Ash!  I almost got strangled by some fucked up machine and now I have no clue what we’re gonna do with it.”

“Mark’ll prob’ly want to dis’semble it and file it as a rouge machine.  Government would pick it up in less than a week.”

“Ash, isn’t that, like, one of the stupidest things you’ve ever said?  We’ve got something to dissect and you want to get rid of it right away?”

She scoffs.  “Well, I’ll ignore that first part.”  Tyler chews at his lip.  “But I mean, yeah it’s a cool opportunity, but the thing almost killed you.  If Mark had been a minute later, we woulda found you dead, Ty.”  He hears her hiccup and cough, most likely holding back a cry.  “I can’t think ‘bout without gettin’ choked up.”

He sighs, eyes momentarily falling closed.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it got you upset.  I’ll talk to Mark in the morning about the thing and get it shipped out.”

“I love ya, Tyler, you better remem’ that.”

A grin spreads across his face.  “Love you too, Ash.”

The call ends and Tyler’s heart grows three sizes, filled with guilt instead of love.  He rubs his temple softly. 

“Ty-Tyler?” Joshua-Dun says, and Tyler turns to find it pressed to the corner of the hallway, one eye peeking out like a scared child.  “You’re gonna kill me?”

“N-no, of course not—”

“You said you’re gonna ship me out.”

His neck shudders under his light fingertips ghosting over the red and angry bruises marking his skin.  “Joshua-Dun, you’re not like anything anyone has ever seen before.  I don’t know how to take care of you without possibly breaking you.”

“You can’t break humans.”

Lips parted, Tyler can’t find the energy to argue.  He sighs out of frustration and pain.  “Look, I’m a repair man, not a doctor.  I’ll help you if you let me, but that might take a while.  And my boss Mark… well, he’s probably gonna find you’re gone if he goes to the shop tomorrow and he’ll know I did it.  If you want me to help, you’ll let me do what I normally do with normal AI’s.”

Joshua-Dun’s eyes shine with tears, but a bit of hope breaks through and _he_ nods _his_ head.  “Please help me.”

Tyler takes his human looking hand and pulls him to his work room, flicking on a light.  It shines over meaty tools and rusted shelves and a made bed.  Joshua-Dun sits on the edge of the bed, rather uncomfortable, but folds his hands in his lap.  Tyler pulls over his home stand covered in wires and cables and plugs.  He turns on the computer screen, wiping off some dust. 

“I’m gonna run some diagnostics first and then I’ll hook up to your vision and nerve endings.”

“Will it hurt?” he asks with a small voice. 

He sorts through a few E-grade plugs.  “I don’t know.”

Joshua-Dun sighs and wrings his hands together. 

“Okay, I’m gonna find the plug; tilt your head down.”

It’s poking through his purple hair, silver and looking untouched, brand new.  Tyler finds a matching wire and cable, as well as a gear twist to secure it place as diagnostics run. 

“Hold still as much as possible,” orders Tyler as he lines up the needle to the plug. 

As it enters, Joshua-Dun shudders fiercely and spits a curse out.  Instinctually, he claws at the wire and he groans out of pain.  “Ow ow ow.  G-get it out, it h-hurts!”

“Shh,” Tyler coos, gently squeezing his shoulder.  “Just breathe, talk about something else.”

Tears squeeze out of his eyes that are wildly looking for Tyler’s help and the tears drip onto his sweatpants, leaving slightly darker marks on the fabric.  “F-fuck, Tyler, please take it out!”

Tyler rushes to the diagnostics, starting it without any other thought.  Joshua-Dun keeps crying and Tyler has to wrap his arms around Joshua-Dun’s arms and pin them to his sides in order for the diagnostics to complete.  He sobs into Tyler’s shoulder. 

“It’s okay,” Tyler comforts.  “You’re okay, it’s almost done.”

He coughs wetly into Tyler’s neck, trembling like tectonic plates shifting against one another.  “I’m s-s-sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, okay?  It’s not your fault.”

At the end bell on the computer, Tyler removes the plug and wire, catching Joshua-Dun’s body before it collapses to the floor.  Tyler quickly saves the results in an empty and unnamed folder, then moves to engulf the weeping boy in his arms.  He rubs his back and shoulders with an open hand, brushing through his sweaty hair. 

“I’m sorry,” Tyler says.  “But it’s over, I promise.  It’s okay.”

Joshua-Dun cries for a few more moments, sniffing and coughing and shaking, but Tyler waits it out even if there’s a side of him that is extremely uncomfortable with the thing that almost strangled him to death a few hours ago. 

“Are you okay, Joshua-Dun?”

He wriggles himself out of Tyler’s arms and hugs his legs close to his chest.  “Why do you keep calling me by my full name?”

Tyler’s mouth falls open.  “You told me that’s your name.  I have to use your name.”

“Dun is my last name, Tyler.  Josh is what I go by.  Do you not have a last name?”

“My name is Tyler.”

“What if there are other Tyler’s?  Then how do you know which one is which?”

“Uh… I’m the only Tyler.”

Josh pauses, eyes glassy.  “How do you know that?”

“I’ve never met another Tyler,” he answers shortly.  “Have you met another Joshua-Dun?”

“Well, not a Joshua-Dun, but a Joshua yes.  That’s why I have a last name, so when there’s someone else with my name, they can tell the difference.”

“Would you look the same?”

Josh shakes his head vehemently.  His eyes look tired.  “N-no, a name is just a word assigned to you.  Someone else can be named Tyler.”

“But _I’m_ named Tyler,” he insists, fingers pointing to his chest.  “That’s _my_ name.  I call myself Tyler and everyone calls me Tyler.”

He sighs and scratches at his face.  Tyler wants to press more, because _what the hell, there are others named Tyler?_   His mind is reeling, but that also means that Josh’s is, too, and he’s had a worse of day than Tyler. 

“What year is it?” Josh asks quietly. 

“2967.”

He swears “Fuck” under his breath, eyelids fluttering shut, lip bitten between his teeth.  “I don’t… I don’t understand what is going on.  Why-why are you calling me a robot and why isn’t it 2016?  Where is my family, Tyler?”

Tyler sighs, and it whistles through his teeth.  “I don’t know, Josh, but I think we should go to bed.  You can sleep in here.” 

Josh’s attention whips up at that and his mouth gapes.  “No, I—”

“Shut up.”  Tyler stands from the bed and smooths down the front of his shirt.  “I never sleep in here anyways.”

Josh searches Tyler’s face some more, a light dying in those warm pupils.  After a sigh, he nods his head and allows Tyler to leave the room with his computer in hands. 

Tyler releases a breath he has probably been holding since Josh’s hands wrapped around his esophagus. 

It hurts seeing someone in pain, but it hurts even more to see something like Josh be confused and scared and hurt all at the same time.  Tyler’s mind is spinning out of control unlike ever before.  It was easier to separate himself when he thought Josh of a regular old AI wrapped up in a burlap sack. 

 

  
.00003

  
Tyler jerks awake at an annoying and relentless buzz.  Through bleary vision, he stumbles as he shoots from the dining room table chair, nabbing a sweatshirt from the floor in the process, and running to his front door. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” spits Tyler. 

He turns the knob just to peek out, but the door whips in and Tyler stumbles back before the edge of the plexi-glass can catch on his temple.  He shoots a sharp glare to Mark, grumbling low in his throat as he rubs at his still sore wrists. 

“Whaddya want?”

Mark crosses his arms over his chest and steps into the apartment.  His eyes are narrowed and dark and Tyler knows he’s in trouble.  “I seem to be missing something in my shop, Tyler.”

 _Oh, shit._ “Uhh…”  Tyler straightens his spine, fixes his hood.  “What’s missing?”

His friend scoff, almost sounding as if he is spitting poison onto Tyler’s floor.  “Don’t play that fucking shit with me.  Did you forget there are security cameras in the shop?  Did you forget I would see what happened to that AI?”

He pulls at his sleeves, nervously chewing on his bottom lip, as he searches the floor and walls and ceiling and furniture.  “Um…”

“ _Tyler_.  Look at me.”

Tyler forces his eyes to meet Mark’s, even though there’s an anger fueled in those pupils.  His throat shudders close.  “I’m sorry…?”

Mark rolls his eyes and brushed hair off his forehead.  “Where is it?”

“Look, before I tell you—”

“No, Tyler,” he says sharply.  “That thing almost killed you; it is rouge more than any AI I’ve ever dealt with in the shop or in the Underground.  We need to contact the DT and get it out of our lives for good.”

His heart ramps up speed, and he feels his eyes widen two fold.  “Wait, please, Mark.  This AI isn’t any AI, okay?  I ran some diagnostics on my own program, but he-he felt pain and-and cried real tears.  We can’t get rid of him.”

Mark looks so ready to argue with Tyler, so ready to yank his phone from his pocket and call the DT, no matter the over four hundred smacker fee involved with them picking up something like this. 

“ _Please_ ,” Tyler begs. 

“God, I feel like you’re begging me to not put down the family dog,” groans Mark, ignoring the slight snicker Tyler lets out.  “I wanna look at the diagnostics before I make a decision.” 

A weight falls off his shoulders, giving his lungs room to breathe and to thrive.  “It’s a mess, just to warn you.”

Mark takes Tyler’s seat in the dining room and Tyler looks over his shoulder, pointing out the first of many, _many_ flaws. 

“First, his grade levels are E, but the plugs don’t match up or register as E.” 

He points out the different registrations on the screen.  It’s a picture of just a regular outline of a body with different gradients of reds and blues and greens spread throughout the body that correspond with categories listed off to the side.  At a quick glance, it looks complicated due to the mass of colors and words and lines jumbled over the screen, but this program Ash made is one of the easiest ones Tyler has ever seen.  It’s not as in depth as Mark’s back at the shop—his covers more categories and malfunctions. 

“The purple is huge throughout the ports, but then when you go down in here, there’s nothing about E-plugs,” explains Tyler, since Mark has barely seen this program.  “They register as… nothing, which isn’t possible.”

“What’s this blue mean?”

“That’s all that’s not titanium.  Usually, it’d come up as a different metal, but again… there’s nothing.”

Mark huffs out a breath.  “That’s just so odd.  And fucked up.  Did this thing talk to you?”

“Yeah, a lot.  He understands a lot of things, but he thinks it’s 2016.  And he says there are other people with our names.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Tyler shakes his head, a sigh falling from his lips.  “I don’t know.  It-it was confusing.”

His friend falls silent, eyes plastered to the computer screen.  Mark switches to a search table and types “ _Josh 2016”_ but Tyler stops him and spells out the boy’s full name.  He chooses to ignore Mark’s confused look and hits enter. 

Of course, nothing of what they want comes up at first.  This is normal, since 2016 is considered an archive year.  After a few random articles putting “Joshua” and “Dun” together, they stumble upon an old newspaper article with a picture of Josh.  He’s smiling with bright eyes and messy brown curls falling onto his forehead.  It’s an article about how he was missing for two weeks with no sign of a break in to his house, a mother’s plea scripted into the text. 

“’ _Joshua William Dun, age twenty-two, was found deceased four miles from his city apartment_ ,’” reads Mark.  “’ _Autopsy reports show cause of death is a drug over dose.  His body was found with an empty bottle of prescribed medication and a hand written suicide note.  Dun had been battling depression and had been in rounds of therapy for some time.  His memorial will be held on campus grounds on June 23 rd and his funeral is scheduled for June 26th._’”

Tyler finds a sense of dread coursing through his chest.  His head falls and rests upon Mark’s shoulder as his heart spasms. 

“It’s okay, Ty,” Mark whispers.  “It’s gonna be okay.”

“No, Mark, this raises more questions than answers!” Tyler spits out.  He doesn’t mean to snap, but his head is pounding and his fingers are stiff.  “He fucking killed himself and now he’s an AI and human hybrid?  What the fuck does that mean!”

Mark stands as Tyler shrinks back away from the table with his head in his hands.  “Tyler, calm down, you’re shaking really bad.”

He tries to reach out for Tyler, but he jerks away from the light touch.  “No!” he shouts, Mark flinching.  “This makes no sense!  Wh-why are we dealing with this?  He’s _dead_!”

Mark reaches out and grips one of Tyler’s wrists, even against the protests Tyler barks out.  Pain twinges through his arm, tears pricking at his eyes.  “Stop.  Breathe, Tyler, okay?  We’ll figure this out soon.”

He gulps in air before his mind can go into the deep end.  Against his better judgement, he believes Mark. 

  
.00004

  
Josh and Mark don’t talk to each other when they meet.  It’s tense, and Tyler can’t do anything to relax the situation.  Josh is curled up in the back seat as Mark drives the three of them back to the shop.  Ash is meeting them with her friend.  The friend is the person who taught her almost all of her programming skills and she says that the friend will be able to help in this situation.  Tyler decided to not hear the quiet “Hopefully” she added before he hung up. 

Mark parks the car in front of the shop, handing some keys to Tyler for Ash and her friend to use.  “I’ll go pick up Hayley and some food,” Mark informs, glancing over at Tyler.  “I have a feeling this’ll be a long night.”  

“You sure you wanna bring Hayley?”

“No,” he sighs, “but she’s got the steadiest hands.” 

He almost asks for what, but then remembers the person they might be hurting is sitting right behind him.  “Tell her to be nice.”

“I’m not promising anything.”

Tyler rolls his eyes as he exits the car, pushing Josh towards the back door.  Josh does glance at the AI drop off, but Tyler doesn’t mention anything about it. 

Ash is there when they enter, and whatever she was talking about to her friend dies off and Josh tenses up. 

“Good to see you’re not dead,” says Ash to Tyler, a smirk on her face. 

“ _Don’t_ ,” Tyler warns.  “I’m not in the mood to joke.”

She whines, lips twisted up.  “You’re such a _downer_.”

Tyler helps—well, more like forces—Josh up to the silver table Ash is leaned over.  Her eyes drift over Josh, fingers clasping together.  Tyler knows that glint in her eyes; it’s the glint that she gets whenever a new software is released. 

“My friend’s Jenna,” says Ash, reaching up and tugging on the E-plug on the back of Josh’s neck.  He winces, chin tilted towards the ceiling.  “I learned a lot of shit from her and she’s worked on some illegal things in the past.”

“Like what?” Tyler asks. 

“Fight rings, drug rings… prostitution.  That’s where I’m thinking this one came from.”

“Well, he’s got the face,” mumbles Ash and Josh looks like he’s about to cry.  “I kinda jus’ wanna yank this thing out.”

“He’s got a spinal cord,” Tyler says.  “You’ll end up killing him before we figure out anything.”

Sighing, she releases the plug and stands up straight.  Josh buries his face in his knees, shaking slightly.  Tyler nervously chews on the inside of his cheek as he brings his computer out of his backpack.  He squeezes Josh’s ankle secretly, opening up his computer for Jenna and Ash to look over diagnostics. 

“You’re okay,” he whispers. 

Ash hears Tyler, but just glances up for a second with a quirked eyebrow and a slight smirk.  He shakes it off as soon as he sees it. 

“Well,” says Jenna, “we can try to reprogramming the plug, make it think it’s E-grade.  But it comes with repercussions since the plugs aren’t showing up as any grade.”

“What repercussions?”

“He could lose movement in his left arm and left leg.  Programming something like this could fry the metal.”

“What if we actually remove the plug and reprogram that rather than the software?” Ash says.  “It eliminates the risk of frying the metal.”

“But it’s connected to a spinal cord.  Ripping it out would kill him.”

“Hayley should be here soon.  She’s good with shit like this.  We’ll get him prepared in the meantime.”

Tyler knows they’re not doctors, and they can’t treat this just like any other AI, but they only know stuff for robots. 

Jenna and Ash scurry out of the room, Ash winking at Tyler as she passes.  He scrunches his nose in response.  A wash of nausea flows over him, but he sees how hard Josh is shaking now is more important than some stupid gesture Ash sent him.

“Hey, Josh?”

He weakly lifts his head from his hiding spot in his knees. 

“You know we’re gonna take care of you, right?”

Josh bites at his bottom lip, shaking his head.  “I-I’m scared.”

Tyler squeezes his shoulder.  “I know, but we’re gonna figure everything out.”

“Wh-what if—”

“Nope.  Don’t even think about any of that.”

He swallows, fingers tightening around the sweatpants Tyler borrowed to him.  “I can’t.”

“You can.  I know you can.”

Josh opens his mouth to say something else, probably refute what Tyler just said, but Jenna and Ash come rolling back in with a cart full of equipment.  Ash starts throwing out orders, starting with Josh to remove his shirt and pants.  A blush as bright as fire spreads across his face, but he wriggles out of the clothes with his head ducked and hands the ball of cloth over to Tyler.  Jenna runs a finger over the metal and skin seam.  Her lips press tightly and form a line, but she doesn’t look concerned. 

“This is really good,” she says.  “Like, the best I’ve ever seen.  Usually they have some kind of overlap, but these are awesome.”

“Okay, stop droolin’ over them,” Ash grins.  “We got a job to do.”

Jenna snickers as she powers on the desktop computer and hands Tyler some HDMI cables to plug into the power source.  Ash brings in some pulse monitors, too, and sticks one to the inside of Josh’s left wrist. 

“Hopefully that won’t electrocute you,” she chuckles, smiling wide at Josh despite his shocked expression. 

“She’s kidding,” Tyler says, eyebrow raised at her. 

She adds the other pulse monitor to his neck, threading the cord down to Jenna’s hands to hook up to a completely separate machine.  With it plugged in, Josh’s rapid heartbeat registers loudly and hearty and Ash smiles when he is electrocuted.  Tyler then is handed a throat tube from Jenna and he internally groans.

“He’s awake, y’know.”

“So?” Ash says.  “Shove it.  It’ll be better to have in the long run.”

“Wh-what does it do?” Josh asks. 

“Sometimes, during a reprogramming, muscles can tense, including your throat, so it’s meant to keep it open if it happens.”

“D-down my throat?” he says shakily, and Tyler nods his head.  “I guess if you have to…”

“It’s safest to do it,” Ash says.  “Since you have muscles like us and we’re technically changin’ somethin’ in you.”

“I thought you were removing the plug?”

“We are, but we have to put it back in and sometimes bodies don’t respond well to it.”

Josh pulls at his fingers, picking at a nail bed until it bleeds red.  “It’s fine.  If it’s safer with it, then it’s fine.  I’ll be able to breathe still?”

“It’s a tube, yes,” Tyler answers.  “Jenna, is there an oxi-gen measure down there?  It’s a little circular piece.”

“Uhh” is the immediate response, but with some rummaging, she brings out a small metal piece that clasps onto the inside of somebody’s cheek to measure how much oxygen the blood is getting.  Josh opens his mouth at the order and Tyler sticks it as far back to his molars as possible and squeezes the prongs into the flesh.  Josh jumps a little bit, but nothing too serious. 

“Why don’t we start off with this?” Tyler says, extending the outer piece so it reaches Josh’s temple without yanking his lips apart.  The prongs dig into the skin there, but Josh is too busy licking at the metal inside of his mouth already to feel it.  “I can keep an eye on the levels to see how his body reacts.”

Jenna grins, giving him a thumbs-up.  “That sounds better.”

“Wha’s this fer?” Josh slurs, oblivious to anything else. 

“Uh, it watches how much oxygen your blood is getting.”

“Robots hafe blood?”

“Newer models have synthetic blood, but it’s white and not red.  It’s a way to make them look more human and not artificial.  It’s a pain in the ass if you ask me, but you’re special.”

He grins just the tiniest bit, nose red. 

“Okay, let’s get him on his stomach,” Ash breathes.  “I’ll grab pillows and blankets from the office.”

Josh lies down easily, even with the multiple cords running off his body and to the cart to his left.  Tyler gathers them all and drapes them over towards the cart so when Hayley arrives, she won’t bitch about the mess around here.  Josh is still playing with the metal piece in his mouth, so Tyler knows he’ll be entertained for some time.  Ash props pillows up under his chest and throat and Josh settles comfortably with his arms strung over the front of the table.  Jenna sets three metal plates on Josh, one in between his ankles, one on his lower back, and one in between his shoulder blades.  They expand at once, curling around Josh’s body and hooking onto the edges of the table.  It presses Josh flush to the table and he squeaks in surprise. 

“Ow,” he groans, burying his head in a pillow.  “S’tigh’.”

“Can you still breathe okay?”

He nods his head and sighs. 

A few minutes later, Hayley and Mark arrive and Mark brings in an anesthetic for Jenna to look at.  When she says this’ll do the job, Mark injects it into Josh’s arm.  His whole body relaxes immediately and his eyes struggle to stay open. 

“Sleep, Josh,” says Tyler. 

And he does. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted a schedule for this but I rlly like this chapter. The next one will be up Sunday or Monday


	3. And You Find You're Not Who You're Supposed To Be?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josh is confused in his own way, far away from home in his own way, sick in his own way. They have their differences and their similarities that Tyler probably only can connect and stretch together, but it makes him feel comfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from forest

When Tyler first met Mark, he was nineteen. 

He was living behind some dumpster in the north end of SciColumbus, stuck outside for the winter.  It was cold, but he had developed a set up that protected him from snow and rain and some wind.  The first week, he cried all the time.  The second week, he felt numb.  The third week, he had to get his shit together.  Food and water were the most important thing to find, steal, beg for.  He knew he had a young face and a young face affected all sorts of people with compassion.  He didn’t show telltale signs of drug abuse or mania.  In all honestly, he was a good kid that just was curious about malware more than English. 

The day he met Mark he acquired some smacker change from a mother with three kids probably trying to teacher her kids to give back to society while also placing pity on Tyler.  He took it, though, because he had the flu and so desperately wanted food and water.  It was the tail end of winter and probably shouldn’t have been as sick as he was, but with the lack of nutrition and hygiene, he fell into a cloud of vomit, sneezing, and chills. 

Mark was in the same grocery store that Tyler stumbled into and also happened to be in the same aisle Tyler was in when he realized he didn’t have enough smacker and crumbled to the tiled floor. 

Tyler woke up with Mark above him, eyes filled with concern and worry—something that he hadn’t felt or seen in months.  Honestly, he cried when Mark offered him a place to stay and cried even more when it actually happened.  Tyler showered with orange smelling body wash and cherry smelling shampoo, brushed his teeth with minty toothpaste and a purple toothbrush, threw up in a toilet three times, and passed out wrapped in a warm towel. 

He was sick for what felt like weeks, but Mark never got mad or frustrated, even when Tyler ruined countless bedsheet and sweatshirts.  It hurt Tyler to his very core how much Mark wanted to help him and Tyler couldn’t repay him.  He cried until his lungs bled one night, coughing and hacking all over some pastel blue colored sheets, but Mark just rubbed his back and called a friend. 

That’s when he met Hayley.  She had blue hair at that time in her life and she was much kinder and happier, so soft spoken and gentle hands.  It hurt.  Every time someone touched him, he sobbed out, skin soaked in gasoline and lit on fire.  There were nights he wanted to die rather than get better and he remembers begging Mark and Hayley to take him out of his misery. 

_“Please, pl-please, it h-hurts.  Mark, Mark, I-I wanna die.  It’s s-so ba-ad.  I-I’m no-not worth it.  Please!”_

They persisted, and he got better.  And better.  And better. 

He could hold down small swallows of soup and water and talk through a conversation for more than ten minutes.  Tyler still cried, cried, cried, almost drowned in his pool of tears.  All because he missed his family.  The sadness transitioned into frustration, then confusion, then ending with a whole boatload of anger.  Every time he thought of his parents, he thought of how much disgust his dad had for a kid that wanted to see what the inside of a toaster looked like rather than go outside and play basketball with his siblings.  It was a boiling fury inside the pit of his stomach. 

He hates, hates, hates his parents. 

Mark and he had been friends ever since, teaching Tyler how to trust people again and how to repair AI.  Ash and Hayley came along as well and in five years has grown to love and care for them, and even for himself.  Tyler is still sometimes cold, sometimes mean with new people, and not the most social at stores or parties Ash drags him to.  He blames his parents, one part for not ever accepting Tyler’s attitude or obsession with tearing apart the kitchen appliances, and another part for kicking him out right as he turned eighteen. 

It was only one day after his birthday and he woke up to his things being thrown in boxes and told to get out.  He remembers crying to his mom for once in his life, wanting forgiveness for his past mistakes, but his dad gave no time and threw him out on the porch with a coat and a backpack filled of his clothes and school work.  Tyler sobbed on that porch for _hours_ , slamming his fists into the front door, crying until his voice gave out.  He only ran when his dad threatened to call the police on him.

In the past five years, he hasn’t thought about his family as much as he had while waiting for Josh to wake up.  At first, it pains him, because those memories have come rushing back after years of repressing them, but then he also thinks about where he came from and how confused he was.  Tyler was so lost and hopeless, preparing to never wake up again if someone murdered him behind his dumpster.  He then realizes why he so overwhelmingly wants to care for Josh.

They’re one in the same. 

Josh is confused in his own way, far away from home in his own way, sick in his own way.  They have their differences and their similarities that Tyler probably only can connect and stretch together, but it makes him feel comfortable. 

Josh wakes with a few groans and cries, eyes squinting at the harsh light above his head.  Tyler calmly pets his hair as Hayley pulls the tube from his throat and tells him comforting sentences as he retches.

“Owah,” he mumbles, but tries a smile.  Josh completely fails at it as his lips just twitch. 

Tyler and Mark help Josh sit up after Jenna says it’s okay to do so.  He falters a few times, mostly leaning back on Tyler’s chest, breathing heavily.  He earns some bearings and slumps into his own lap.  His face is pale and eyes bloodshot, but he doesn’t complain when Jenna starts running diagnostics.

Tyler feeds Josh some sherbet once he and Josh are alone in the back room.  A lot of it ends up on the front of his shirt since he says his mouth and throat feel numb.  Tyler feeds him until he’s finished and cleans up his sticky chin and neck. 

“Tywer, ‘m s’ill hungwy,” Josh mumbles, mouth sounding like it’s filled with cotton. 

Tyler wipes away a string of spit hanging off Josh’s lip with a towel and smirks at the glassy and dazed look smeared across his face.  “Maybe later.  We’ll see how you hold down the sherbet, okay?  Do you wanna sleep some more?”

He takes almost three years to blink, eyes blissed out and groggy.  “Mmm,” he hums, “las’ t-time I… I went t’ sleep I di’nt feel good.”

“Yeah?”  Tyler tries to swallow around the rock that has lodged itself in his throat.  “Do you feel okay now?”

“Not reawy.”

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

He licks his lips, rubbing his left eye with the heel of his hand.  “My hear’ hur’s.”

Tyler runs a few fingers through the hair on the top of Josh’s head, feeling Josh shudder the slightest bit under it.  “It gets better, I promise.”

“Wha’ happened…?”

“I’ll tell you later, okay?  Maybe when you’re feeling better.” 

Josh nods his head, but Tyler feels a noose tighten rather than loosen. 

  
.00005

   
The shop opens back up five days after Josh’s arrival, and everyone is slammed with appointments and questions and repairs.  Tyler spends most time with his hands stuck in the abdomens of an AIs as Josh looks over his shoulder and asks question after question after question.  He tries not to be irritated at Josh, but after the eighth AI and probably two hundredth question, Tyler has to snap. 

“Dude, just shut your mouth for a little bit, okay?  I have to get this done before the owner picks it up otherwise I don’t get my goddamn paycheck.”

Josh’s mouth clamps shut immediately, eyes wide and nervous.  “S-sorry.” 

Tyler shrinks back into his seat, removing his oily hands from the stomach of the AI and rubbing a temple.  His heart clenches, but he just grits his teeth and removes the spine that needs repair.  He actually finds it to be an easy fix—just some wires that are twisted and a disc that needs replacing—but it seems so overwhelming and suffocating that his head feels like it’ll explode at any moment. 

He stands so violently, his chair flies back to the floor, clattering loudly through the garage and startling everyone inside the shop.  The spine in his hands snaps in half and falls to the floor along with his chair.  Tyler storms out of the garage and slams the back door behind him. 

The gravel shifts under his feet, unsteady and unsupportive.  He kicks at it and it sprays over the other span of yards of gravel, clinking against the rocks and the dirt.  His bones rattle and echo and shake and he hates everything, hates, hates, hates. 

The AI drop off signs are ripped off their screws by Tyler’s hands and thrown across the driveway.  It soars through the air, crashes to the ground with a dull thud, but it doesn’t break.  It needs to break and snap and Tyler has to do it.  

He’s screaming as he yanks on it.  It hurts to punch it, to bite it, to kick it, but it just fuels his rage more.  He’s broken so many things in the past—AIs, appliances, vases, noses, even his own goddamn soul.  This sign shouldn’t be anything. 

“Tyler, what are you doing?” Mark yells. 

“Leave me the fuck alone!” he shrieks. 

“No!  Goddamn it, stop it!”

His wrist is seized, arms pinned to his sides, yanked to his feet.  Tyler screams again, kicks back against Mark’s shins and kneecaps, but never, ever is dropped or released. 

Tyler is, though, set carefully down on a simple slab of cement, one slab that is unlabeled now due to bloody knuckles and sore toes.  Mark kneels in front of Tyler, grips a shoulder, leans his friend back until they’ve made eye contact, until Tyler’s bloodshot and itchy eyes are being bored by Mark’s concern and scared ones. 

“What the fuck happened?” he asks.  “Did Josh say something?”

His fingers are still shaking.  Tyler just stares dead at the sign he tried to break. 

“ _Tyler_.”  Mark’s fingers dig in.  “Answer me.  Talk to me.”

“Why?  So I can confuse the hell out of you?”

“Wh-what?  Have you taken something?”  He pries open Tyler’s jaw and prods his tongue, only to be stopped by Tyler slapping his chest. 

“Stop, god, leave me alone.  I don’t need to be babysat by you constantly.”

His friend honestly looks hurts; he looks saddened by the fact that Tyler just said he doesn’t need him.  Mark and him go home to empty apartments, coming to work in the morning to dig around wires and gears, maybe spending some time with each other over the weekends. 

“Go home.”

Tyler’s eyes whip up.  “What?”

“Go home,” he says sternly, “take your fucking AI, and don’t come back until you’ve figured out what the fuck you’re gonna do with it.”

Mark’s eyes are unforgiving, lips pulled back into a sneer, nose flared, and ears red hot.  Tyler feels something shift in his chest, but he ignores it as he shoots to his feet and walks back inside the shop.  There, Hayley, Ash, and Josh are all staring up at the door, shuddering when Tyler glares at each of them.  

“C’mon, Josh, let’s go,” he spits. 

“Where are you going?” Hayley asks. 

“Home.”

Ash gasps.  “Why?”

“Why don’t you ask the fucking _boss_ why he’s sending me home?”

Tyler yanks his duffle bag out of his locker, shoving everything that’s sitting on the bottom inside it.  Ash and Hayley just stare at him, either too scared or too shocked to say anything.  His heart is racing like a horse jacked up on shots of adrenaline, and it only makes him angrier and angrier.  The locker slams shut and he and Josh exit the shop for what feels like forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short and was supposed to be up yesterday but i was watching the bachelorette whoops


	4. Why Won't You Let Us Use Your Name?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Josh?” Tyler whispers. “Are we… does everyone look like me to you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from implicit demand for proof

He and Josh arrive to the apartment in silence.  Tyler’s hands are vibrating too much, head pounding too much, too hold a complete conversation.  He ends up passing out in the shower at one time and wakes up with a sore head and cold water running down his body.  Josh doesn’t even ask about the cut on his forehead when he sees him walk to the kitchen. 

“Is Mark mad at you because of me?” Josh asks quietly.  So quietly, Tyler might he think he’s afraid of Tyler. 

_Of course he’s scared, Tyler,_ he scolds to himself. 

“No,” he lies.  “He’s mad ‘cause I’m dumb, not ‘cause of you.”

“Are you lying?”

Tyler sighs, pulling open a cabinet and digging out two plates.  “What do you wanna eat?” he asks. 

“Tyler.”

“Josh, I don’t want to talk about,” he says, voice crisp with annoyance.  He sees Josh shrink back into his seat, arms folding over his chest in protection.  “Now tell me what you want to eat, and don’t lie to me.”

“What do you have?”

He opens the refrigerator, scanning over the few items consisting of eggs, bread, ham, and a few apples.  “You like mashed eggs?”

“Mashed?  You mean scrambled?”

“Sure, yeah, ‘ _scrambled_.’  Is that okay?”

Josh nods his head and Tyler proceeds to gather eggs and bread from the fridge, then grabs a bowl and fork. 

Tyler hears Josh clear his throat, almost awkwardly.  “Can I ask some questions?”

“About what exactly?”

“I dunno, your family, you maybe?  What were you gonna tell me in the shop?”

He simultaneously cracks open two eggs, tossing the shells in a nearby trash can, then does the same with two more.  “My parents threw me out of the house a day after I turned eighteen, left me with a backpack of clothes and some spare smacker change.”  Tyler swallows around a growing rock in his throat, deciding it’s better just to keep going rather than stop here.  “I was on the streets for about three months and I was sick the entire time.  I met Mark when I went into a store with some pity smacker a mom gave me; he was in the same aisle I passed out in and took me home, took care of me.”

He glances back at Josh, finding him just to be staring intently, arms uncrossed and eyes shiny.  “I was really, really, sick.  Like, throwing up, sweating, chills, fever, cough, everything.  And I felt so bad ‘cause Mark would stay up in the middle of the night with me and change whatever sheets or clothes I ruined since I threw up.  But he just kept trying to get me better, and it hurt so bad I told him and Hayley—I met Hayley when she came over with some meds—I told them I wanted to die, just to off me, let me overdose on pills, but they persisted and I got better.”

“How long did it take?”

Tyler shrugs.  “A few weeks, I guess.  But after, Mark offered to teach me everything I know to this day.  He helped me get to my feet, get this apartment.  I owe Mark a lot of shit.”  He sighs, cutting a chunk of butter off of a stick in the fridge and placing into a heating pan on the stove top.  “I wasn’t ever gonna tell you this, but the bruises on my neck are from you.”

Josh’s eyes pop open.  “Wh-what?”

“You were probably on some auto-defense mode or something,” he explains nonchalantly.  “It’s fine, I’m fine and alive, but I think that’s why Mark and Hayley and Ash don’t like you too much.”

“Because I almost killed you,” he mumbles.  “I-I don’t re-remember—”

“Josh, it’s fine.  I’m not mad.”

“But I almost killed you!” he shouts, shooting up from his seat.  “I almost killed you and you _helped_ me?  Why would y-you do that?  You should’ve got r-rid of me the moment it happened, n-not bring me back here!”

Tyler turns, taking two steps towards the shaking man.  “Josh, settle down, it’s okay.  I’m not mad.”

“Y-you ha-hafta be,” he whispers. 

He reaches a hand out towards Josh, but he flinches away, taking half a step back to the wall with his arms crossed over his stomach.  Tyler’s mind flashes back to five years, how scared he was when he ran from his home and how frustrated he was at everything.  Tyler was only on the other side of the city from his family, but Josh is nine thousand years from his family and he’ll never seen them again.  He’s frightened beyond anything Tyler can imagine, and everything Tyler doesn’t want to imagine. 

“I’m not,” Tyler says. 

When he wraps fingers around Josh’s wrist, Josh shivers violently and mutters “Cold” under his breath, but Tyler knows his fingers are sweaty.  Tyler retracts his hand, looks at it, touches the tips of his fingers to his face.  They’re warm and he honestly takes a double take on Josh. 

“Josh, I need you to take a deep breath, okay?  What do I look like to you?  What do my hands look like?”

He hiccups on a few cries, chest heaving in air dryly.  “S-silver,” he breathes, and Tyler can feel his heart cracking. 

“Okay,” he says.  “C’mon, I’ve gotta… gotta run a test.”

Josh stumbles after Tyler to the bedroom.  He wipes at tears as he sits on the bed, but Tyler tries his best to ignore the entire situation and focus on setting up his computer. 

He still winces when Tyler plugs him into the computer, but it’s probably due to the electrical connection and data reconfiguring.  Tyler loads up the program as Josh chews on his thumbnail and drags his cursor over Josh’s vision. 

When he clicks on it, Josh yelps, hands flying up to his face as his shoulders shudder.  “Ty-Tyler, what’re you doing?  I can’t s-see!” he cries. 

“I know, it’s okay,” Tyler mumbles.  He reaches over for Josh’s wrist, eyes plastered to the screen as it switches to a new input. 

Josh is blinking at Tyler with gray eyes, watery and glassy, and Tyler is standing at the computer, skin shiny and silver.  His heart jumps in his throat as the picture melds with tears.  The wrist in Tyler’s hand is normal to Josh, but to Tyler, it’s metal, just like what Josh sees of Tyler.  But Tyler is all metal, with piercing red eyes and a sleek figure.  The silver has a blue sheen to it, facial features smooth and lifeless.  He looks nothing of what he does in real life, and it strikes terror in the pit of Tyler’s stomach. 

“Josh?” Tyler whispers.  “Are we… does everyone look like me to you?”

“Yes,” he whimpers. 

His shoulders sink far, almost all the way off his body.  Tyler drops Josh’s wrists and moves his fingers to his keyboard.  There’s a different option for vision paths and the one set is some B-grade— such a low grade for vision Tyler is surprised he can even see clearly. 

“Josh, I’m gonna switch something, and-and it might scare you, okay?  But I’m right here.  Can you shut your eyes for me?”

He does and his fingers ball up, white knuckled and tight around his shirt hem.  Tyler sighs at the scene in front of him, feeling quite a strong pull in his chest, but he know he has to separate his feelings and the similarities him and Josh have.  That’s not fair to Josh at all, since his situation is grimmer than Tyler’s. 

When it switches, there’s a tiny whimpers from Josh and he presses his lips into a thin line.  Tyler feels his blood run cold, but he kneels in front of Josh, gently touching his kneecap, softly trying to talk his eyes open.  His mouth is slick with sweat, vein in his forehead prominent. 

“Josh?” he says softly.  “You can open your eyes, it’s okay, I promise.”

Josh sighs, his mouth twitching slightly, but he cracks open his eyes as if it’s his first time see light.  He gasps when he meets Tyler’s eyes, hands retracting to his chest in protection.  “Wh-what…?”  His eyes move down to his arms, fingers skimming over the metal arm.  He tugs at Tyler’s hair, at his skin over his cheeks, brushes over his eyelashes with his thumb.  “How is-is this possible?  Y-you’re so… r-real.  H-how is this possible, Tyler?  Why do you look l-like this?”

“I don’t know, Josh,” he says, gently pushing Josh’s hands away from his eyes.  “I mean, I know why I look like this, but I don’t know how this is possible.  We’re gonna figure it out though, okay?”

Tears well up in his eyes and he cries.

Josh cries, but it’s okay.  It’ll be okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive been gone a while. been busy w life n personal things. m not doin too good man. s pretty bad bt m hanging in there n m trying my best. ive met lots of ppl recently tht r super sweet t me n i love thm w all my heart  
> i made a new tumblr: isledun.tumblr.com (the lorrcan one was personal, but this m pretty much only using so chat t me there n see me suffer yee)  
> also, for those who read my other fic, ill try to have an update soon i promise


	5. Wish We Could Turn Back Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If he ends up dead on his couch one day, then so be it. His life is over. That’s all. And Tyler is very, very content with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from stressed out

Tyler thinks Josh hasn’t stopped staring at him all day.  He knows it isn’t sexual or a lust, but more of an unbelief in what he’s looking at.  For days, Tyler and everyone one else were robots to him, while everyone called him the AI, the different, the nonhuman.  It’s crazy to Tyler how things could switch so fast and how his perspective could be altered. 

Josh, of course, is struggling to grasp a hold on things.  He’s cold, quiet, and his eyes are so cloudy.  Tyler tried to get him into a small conversation over breakfast, but nothing sparked Josh’s interest and he threw most of his cereal away.  Tyler finishes his cereal in silence, reading up on some news, ignoring the stream of texts from Ashley.  It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk to her; it’s that she just wants to hear what happened between him and Mark, because she can’t keep her fucking nose out of shit that doesn’t belong to her. 

“Tyler?”

His eyes flutter shut as his fury burns in his stomach, but he can’t take that out on Josh.  “Yeah, what’s up?”

Josh is peering around the corner, eyes sad and hollow.  “Am I, uh, able to shower… like this?” 

Sighing, he slumps into his lap, locking his phone and setting it face down on the table.  “Josh, you can’t, I’m sorry.  The circuitry could fry and with your head still being full of nerve endings…”

Josh’s face clicks into place and his mouth opens.  “Ye-yeah, no, I get it, makes sense.”  He fiddles with a string on his cuff for a moment.  “I think I’m just gonna go back and sleep.”

“Hey, uhm—”  Tyler stands too fast and his knees push the chair over onto the carpeted floor with a soft thud, but it still causes Josh to flinch.  “Leave that.  But I can wash your hair in the bathtub?  If you want?”

His fingers are twisting at the fading locks, chewing at his bottom lip.  “Yes, pl-please,” he whispers, and Tyler’s heart just about cracks. 

He can’t describe exactly why, since in all reality, the last time he felt something was when he was kicked out of his house.  Otherwise, he’s been closed off, even from Ash or Mark.  And this simple AI/human with a voice crack a twelve year-old pubescent boy should have can break Tyler’s heart in half.  It’s not fair, after how they met and how he ruined his job and ruined the trust between him and Mark and it’s not _fair_!

Though, Tyler clears his throat and grabs his bottle of conditioner that Ash bought for him.  Many faults are connected to Tyler, but the biggest one is he never chooses to take care of himself.  He could go days without a shower or eating, until there is enough grease on his hands and arms to be scraped off or until his stomach has seemed to eat itself whole.  Countless lectures have just gone through one ear and out the next because he really can’t find a care.  If he ends up dead on his couch one day, then so be it.  His life is over.  That’s all.  And Tyler is very, very content with that.

Josh is already shirtless in guest bathroom when he returns, sat against the side of the tub, knees drawn to his chest.  Tyler finds a soft washcloth to prop under Josh’s neck and begins to run the water until it’s warm.  For a minute, it’s awkward and Josh just stares at the ceiling with his bottom lip sucked in between his teeth and Tyler can’t stop clearing his throat, but Tyler supposes they both realize they have to get along for the time being and relax back into their skin and bones. 

“Tyler, do you know what’s gonna happen with me?” he asks. 

He can’t help but scoff as the first response, because that is such an open ended question and Tyler has been immensely pessimistic his entire life.  “Nothing really.  Probably find out where you came from and get some information, but you’re staying with me.”

He blinks slowly over coffee colored eyes.  “What if…?”

“What if what?  The government?  You’re too scared and they won’t want to deal with you.  Trust me.”

“And… Mark?  Is he okay?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs.  “He’ll get drunk soon and call me to apologize and then I’ll go over and take care of his hangover.”

Josh grins.  “You’re a good friend.”

He laughs dryly, head thrown back, as he massages some conditioner in Josh’s damp hair.  “I’m probably going to be one of the shittiest people you meet, Josh.”

“How?  You’ve been everything but shitty.  I’m an illegal person and you’re housing me voluntarily.”

He opens his mouth to mention something, but decides against the pity part and opts for, “Yeah, well, just wait.”

Josh rolls his eyes, partially sighing at the wash of warm water pouring over his head.  For the first time, he looks like a young adult in his element: relaxed, content.  All the lines and crinkles from his stressed and pained face have receded back to where they belong.  Tyler feels a little bit of the guilt lift off his shoulders and dissipate above their heads.

“What’s your middle name?” asks Josh. 

“A what?”

“Seriously?  Nothing?”

“Okay, Joshua-Dun,” Tyler snickers, “what’s yours then?”

“William.  Joshua William Dun.”

Tyler repeats it back in his head and it rolls off his tongue, like a knife cut through soft butter.  “Hmm, nice name.  Give me one.”

“A middle name?  Uhh…”  He shuts his eyes in thought, lips pursed.  “Robert.  O-or Joseph!”

Tyler scoffs.  “Can you even have two?”

“Well… yeah.  It’s not exactly common, but yeah you can have two.” 

“Tyler Robert Joseph,” he mutters.  “I like it.”

Josh laughs softly.  It sounds like wind chimes in the rain, scratchy and light, and it’s a nice sound to Tyler’s ears.  “S’good,” he whispers. 

He finishes washing out all the conditioner, watching the water swirl and swirl and drain, but he throws a towel at Josh’s face and asks, “Hungry?”

And Josh nods his head, grinning.  “Tacos?”

“What…?”

His eyes fling open, dropping the towel.  “You’ve never had _tacos_?  Dude!”

“I’m… No, I don’t think the Midwest sells those.  Maybe in the South.  Are they good?”

“God, so fucking good.  We gotta get some.”

Tyler scoffs and reaches down to help Josh stand on his feet.  “Well, sure, if we get close to the South, but for now I’ll order pizza.”

He might be disappointed, but he’s got this goofy grin on his face, so Tyler doesn’t find a reason to be upset. 

Tyler catches up some work at the dining room table after he sets up Josh on the couch with a movie playing.  He’s curled up in the corner with cushions bracketing his sides and a blanket tight around his entire body, just his head poking out as he watches the movie intently.  Somehow, Tyler found the movie with Donnie Darko in it and hasn’t really been paying attention much, but from what he’s heard, this Donnie is really fucked up.  He’s told the world will end in about thirty days by a rabbit man named Frank?  Tyler knows he’s got some problems, but this is something else. 

About forty five minutes later, the doorbell rings and both Tyler and Josh jump a little.  Considering how quiet the entire apartment had been, the doorbell could be an intruder to them and could be someone that could hurt them, but after the second has passed, they both rethink and their minds melt into something normal.

He should be hit with the smell of pizza, but instead he’s hit with a hand, sharply placed across his face.  Josh gasps, the couch creaking with his flinching. 

“Answer my texts, Tyler,” Ash hisses and she shoves her way into the apartment. 

“And you have to hit me for not?” he snaps back, blinking away the dizziness, but not daring to bring soothing fingers to his cheek.  Even if it is Ash, he is not a happy camper with her. 

“You have been gone for three days without a word.  For all I know you could’ve drowned yourself in the kitchen sink.”

“Fuck off, Ash.”

“You have put me through enough hell, Tyler.  I don’t need you disappearing one me anymore!”

He slams the door shut a little too hard and spins around on his heels.  “Don’t you _dare_ make this my fault,” he spits out, closing in on her so she has to back up a few steps, almost so she’s pinned against the wall.  “You don’t get to play victim anymore.  If you wanna, get the fuck outta my house and complain to Hayley.  I don’t wanna sit and listen to your bitching; I’m so fucking done with it, Ash, I’m so, so done.”

She shoves back on his shoulder, poking a finger in his chest.  “You obviously don’t remember what Mark and I did for you and this fucking illegal hybrid comes into your life and you drop _everything_ for it.  He is nothing, Tyler.  He is gonna get you jailed or killed because of what he is.  But you still lock the two of you up in your apartment and think you can get away with abandoning your only friends, just like your parents did to you.”

Ash’s face grows pale after that last sentence and Tyler’s vision blurs with tears he has repressed for years.  He hasn’t cried over them in years, because every time it doesn’t feel right after how much they neglected him. 

“Tyler, I’m sorry, I was upset—”

“ _Don’t talk to me_ ,” he growls.  “Get out!  Get the fuck out right now!”

“Hon—”

“Don’t!” he screams. 

He shoves her back so hard she hits the wall, grunting at the force.  And his head is exploding and he can’t shake the feeling inside his bones.  It’s all swimming and moving too fast, so he sprints to his room and locks himself in his closet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY M NOT DEAD!!!!!!!!!!! bt srsly this is long overdue m so sorry  
> new chapter soon i prmise prmise prmise !!  
> thank u all for stickin this out i lov u


	6. And The Window Sill Looks Really Nice, Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from holding onto you

“I made pancakes,” says Josh from the dining room table, eyes innocent and wide.  Tyler clenches his jaw at the ache in his stomach and the somewhat guilty feeling rising up his throat.  He clenches his hands at his sides, shutting his eyes. 

“I’ll eat later,” he mumbles and moves for his jacket hanging by the door.  It feels heavier than usual in his hands, but he doesn’t take notice.  Everything is heavier and more watery afterwards, but it really doesn’t matter to him anymore.  “I’ll be back later, jus’ don’t burn down the place while I’m gone.”

He sees Josh open his mouth, but then clamp it shut and sink into his seat.  He could’ve asked where Tyler was going; Tyler wouldn’t have minded.  Only thing is, he doesn’t have a plan because when does Tyler ever have a plan?  He just moves as much as he can and stays busy, numb his mind. 

After a moment of silence, he exits the apartment, locking the door, and taking a deep breath.  He’s sort of nervous, but mostly because of what he could do rather than what Josh could do, because Josh is smart and Tyler is unstable and Josh is illegal and Tyler is lost.  Of course, at this point, the names in that sentence could be switched and no one would tell the difference.  He sees so much of himself in Josh, but can’t pinpoint what or why or how.  Meaning, he really doesn’t want to.  That’s too aggravating. 

Josh is a robot, not a Tyler. 

Tyler arrives at a bar downtown flooded with people of all kinds.  He throws his hood up and shimmies his way to the bar light up with dimmed pink and blue and purple lights.  Loud music rattles through his bones and it makes his chest feel somewhat full, but not enough to distract him.  A skeleton AI takes his order and he watches as the limbs reach back and up and around for all the items of his drink.  It happens at light speed, without a drop spilled, and then moves on to the next customer.  For a moment, he just watches the drink with wide eyes, then moves to the AI, back to the drink, then his hands, and his stomach turns slightly.  Josh could be this, stuck making drinks until he’s shut off for the morning, stuck in a ritual pattern of take, pour, give, take, pour, give.  Tyler knows deep in his heart that this AI behind the bar is nothing close to what Josh can process.  Emotions are not in this AI’s motherboard and he shouldn’t be thinking it is. 

“It’s fine,” he mumbles, and swings back his drink. 

It’s freezing cold the moment it hits his stomach, and he shivers violently, but it feels warming.  Just like that first winter he experienced from home. 

“Tyler?”

Just as he’s about to order another drink, his name is called out by a feminine voice and he turns swiftly to see a blonde, slim woman waving her hand at him, grinning.  His mind clicks and he’s too deep in to turn away, so he turns and gives a toothless smile, watching Jenna squeeze through to the seat next to Tyler. 

“Hey!” she says cheerily, over the music.  “How are you?”

“Fine,” he answers, sipping at the watered down vodka tonic in between his spindly fingers. 

“How’s, uh, the AI?”

He shrugs. 

“I’m guessing stressful if you’re here,” she giggles. 

Tyler finds himself snorting before he can stop, half grinning.  “Yeah, it’s a real adventure with him,” he grumbles.  “No malfunctions at least.”  He scratches his five o’clock shadow slightly and hiccups.  “How are you?”

Jenna’s eyes seem to light up at the question, as if she had been waiting for it her entire life.  “I’m good, I’m good.  Meeting some friends here soon.”

“And yet you’re wasting on the lowlife repairman,” jokes Tyler. 

“Hey!” she scolds.  “Don’t be so down; you seem like a wonderful person from the few hours I spent time with you at the shop.  Plus, Ashley wouldn’t shut up about you afterwards.”

Tyler shrugs his shoulders, flipping over his empty cup right away after taking the last sip.  “She’s always had a school girl crush on me from the moment we met.  It’s kind of endearing.”

“She’s a nice girl, Tyler.”

“What does that mean?” he asks, eyeing her.

“I think maybe you should try to… approach something with her.”

He scoffs, softly though, because he does love Ash.  “She’s too immature, too wild.”

“Maybe you’re the person to help tame her.”

She’s not some horse, Tyler thinks, but he understands the metaphorical sense behind her words.  Never would he actually try something with Ash, but he nods, just so the conversation can be over. 

They have small talk for about another ten minutes, mostly just Tyler nodding along to her words.   It’s about her school and job and busy lifestyle and then about the friends that are twenty minutes late.  Tyler’s had three drinks while Jenna sips on water with her manicured fingers.  The hollowness in his chest has subsided, just leaving a part bitten off by whatever demons or monsters, bleh, that live in his head.  He’s not one to indulge in metaphors or similes for his pain, because Tyler knows his pain for the most part, it just depends on his mood whether or not to analyze it.  Usually, he doesn’t care, but then that ends up with a bathtub stained with vomit and blood. 

“Ugh,” Jenna spits.  “They were supposed to be here a while ago.  Do you think they ditched me?”

“A pretty face like yours?” he asks innocently, teasingly.  “No way.”

She rolls her eyes, but grins.  “Wonder why Ash still likes you, huh.”

He shrugs slightly, fingers missing the curl they had around his glass.  “Just saying the truth.”

Jenna tries not to smile or blush like a high schooler, but she breaks and giggles lightly, which is melodic to Tyler’s tone deaf ears.  “Well,” she breathes.  “Thank you.  That’s very kind of you to say.  You’re… pretty good looking yourself.”

“Oh, _thanks_ ,” he snorts and she bursts out into more giggles.  Right then and there, Tyler decides he wants to hear that laugh for a few more hours, and wants to be the cause of it. 

“Not everyone can be as smooth as Tyler the repairman.”

“Believe me, if we were all as smooth as me,” he begins, “we’d be fucking screwed.”

Laughs once more, and Tyler soars.  He can’t help it and he follows suit, laughing as his lungs shake off dust and cobwebs.  Her icy eyes glitter and slender hands clap together as she creates music.  And it’s wonderful for Tyler’s heart, because it somehow feels better than the medicine he takes when he shakes for three days straight or threw up the food that touched his stomach.  Jenna’s good medicine to his heart. 

“Hey, you know, since my friends ditched me and you’re what I presume as alone,” Jenna says, “do you want to head back to my place?”

Almost, Tyler says no.  But he chokes on his spit for a second, coughing into his shirt sleeve as his mind tumbles for an answer to her very simple question that literally can only have one answer out of two options. 

“U-uhm, well, I-I mean,” he stutters, but then takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out through his nose.  “Yes, I would like that,” he fixes and Jenna grins. 

  
.00006

  
A taxi ride later, Jenna’s got Tyler pinned up on the back of her front door to her hotel room, her lips attached to Tyler’s neck as her fingernails dig into his rib cage.  He shudders against her, against the thigh that’s between his legs, hands gripping her shoulders like a lifeline.  His lips are dry and wanting, parted as he pants heavily. 

“J-Jen, Jenna, c’mon—” Tyler whines, but he’s cut off by her stepping back, taking away the thigh he’d been grinding lazily on.  “Fuck, please, I gotta have something.”

“You won’t get anything if you keep letting that mouth run.”

And holy _shit_ , Tyler’s mind completely spins at that and he feels himself wanting to bite back, but he holds his tongue because he wants the ache in his pelvis to go away.  “Okay.”

Jenna smirks, leaning her thigh back between Tyler’s thighs, one hand resting softly at the front of his neck, the other on his hip, feeling it tighten and loosen whenever she wants Tyler to go slower or faster.  “So pretty,” she whispers, fingers tightening. 

And Tyler soars once more.  His alcohol induced head is spinning like an amusement park ride and all he can do is take it, no matter how much it makes his stomach twist. 

Then, he’s on his back on a soft mattress and Jenna’s kissing him and touching him all over the place.  Her lips burn into his skin as her nails cut into him and he feels on fire, soaked in gas prior to when the flames lick his body. 

He finds this is the most alive he has ever been. 

Pain is good to him, always has been there in one way or another, and he’s smiling wide and bright. 

Jenna’s smiling, too, against the skin of his neck, where she’s been biting and sucking it raw.  Kitten licks, as a sort of apology for the damage she’s done.  Somehow, in his dazed dream, Jenna shifted Tyler’s body up to the headboard of the bed, locking his wrists in matte black handcuffs.  He’s not keen on protesting, just because he is enjoying the attention being received.  He figures it’ll continue if he listens. 

She marks bruises into Tyler’s tanned skin with those pretty pink lips; ones that Tyler hisses at, but his very core is rocked with more pleasurable heat, to a point where he can barely stand it.  Her lips twist up into a devilish grin when Tyler squirms and pants above her, nails dug into his flesh.  He gasps when she rips away at his shirt cleanly and immediately runs her warm and soft hands over his entire abdomen.  Her thumbs, particularly, slide over Tyler’s nipples _very_ softly and slowly, and his hips jolt up.  That makes Jenna giggle, nipping his earlobe with her sharp canines. 

“Needy?” she whispers. 

Tyler’s nodding so fast in response, probably hard enough to rip his head from his spine.  “G-gotta do some-something, pl-please.”

“Baby can barely hold his own damn tongue and expects me to touch him.”  She makes a “tsk” sound with her tongue.  “It’s cute.”

He thinks otherwise, because she’s not the one handcuffed to a headboard or literally on the edge of cumming in her pants from a slight touch. 

She moves and shucks off his shoes and jeans quickly, leaving him with his straining cock under his black briefs.  Tyler suddenly feels exposed and bare, and he tries to draw his knees up to his chest, but Jenna lands a hard smack to his inner thigh.  The color red paints Tyler’s entire face and so he hides in the crease of his elbow, panting.  Next, his ankles are cuffed to respecting bedposts and then Jenna’s getting up from the bed and… checking her phone?  Tyler’s eyebrows crease together. 

“W-what’re you doing?” asks Tyler.

Jenna looks up for a second, before she places her phone back down on the TV stand and then brings up a backpack Tyler hadn’t seen with her when they entered.  “Did you really think I’d have sex with you?”

He almost swallows his tongue whole, chewing on the inside of his cheek.  “It-it seemed like it.”

She scoffs and throws her leather jacket on, the backpack now being strapped to her backpack.  “I work for a bounty hunter ring.  I collect AI, take them to a location, and get paid.  Your AI is wanted by a very powerful guy and I need my payment, so what better way was it to track where you live, isolate you, and then get the AI for myself?”

“You forget that I’m a witness.”

“Yeah…” she ponders, digging into one of the pockets of her backpack, extracting a roll of silver duct tape.  Then, she scoops up one of the socks Tyler had on just a few minutes ago, balls it up, and wrenches Tyler’s head back against the board by a harsh grip in his hair.  Her eyes are flames, but that doesn’t strike Tyler down; it brings him to fight more, thrashing, screaming, trying to bite the fingers that are getting close to his mouth.  Jenna brings a sharp and fast hand to the side of his head.  His ears ring, eyes going blurry.  The energy to fight is all stuck in his head and won’t travel down to his arms or fingers, and so Jenna becomes victorious.  His mouth is taped shut, wound around his head a few times for extra insurance that he won’t be able to scream for help.  Jenna leaves him with handcuffed wrists and ankles, a gagged mouth, and a devastatingly hurt dignity.  He always ends up in trouble, but he didn’t expect it to be this. 

“Now,” says Jenna, swinging to straddle Tyler’s hips, gripping his chin, “I’m having some guys come in soon, take care of you, maybe worm some locations outta you to make _my_ life a little easier, and then that nasty AI will be out of your life.”

She enunciates the last few words by tapping on his nose with her pointer finger, an evil grin on her pretty pink lips.  His breath hitches, clicks through his throat, and that damn grin gets bigger.

“You’re damn pretty like this, you know?” she whispers.  Leans in to nibble at his ear, pearly whites gripping his lobe tightly. 

He shivers, but swallows his cry back into his stomach. 

She slithers off the bed when there’s a knock at the door.  Tyler suddenly releases a breath he had been holding for unknown reasons, clenching his fists.  Three men enter the room, all of various heights and strengths.  One man has a cigarette hanging from his bottom lip.  Said man takes the desk chair from the corner of the room and sits on it next to the bed, all without a word.  The other two settle on their feet at the end and Jenna sits back down next to Tyler, still grinning. 

“So, this is the Message Man, huh?” says the one with the cigarette. 

“He’s got that missing AI,” Jenna replies. 

“Was it from Urie?”

She makes a face, like she ate something sour.  “No clue.  I didn’t get to look in the records at that shop.”

The man’s eyes are lidded, and they then turn to turn, squinting even more.  “Urie sound familiar to you?”

Tyler shakes his head. 

The man’s cigarette ashes fall to the floor and he takes another long drag, swallowing it.  “Urie stole my AI.  It calls itself ‘Josh’ but it’s nothing more than a confused soul consciousness.”  That previous drag was the last, so the man stubs out the nicotine on Tyler’s stomach.  He hisses, tears being brought to his eyes at large sting being engrained in his skin.  The man’s smirk is evident, spread across his face, and he draws another stick from a carton, no matter the no smoking warning on the nightstand.    “Anyways, Urie was a partner of mine, and took a large quantity of money from the business, as well as a select AI.  What I knew was there was something he called a “Message Man” and that trail led to you.”

His mind twists around his words.  A Message Man?  What could that be?  And who in the world be Urie?  Nothing of what he talks about makes sense to Tyler, and he won’t stand to be believed in the same court as people like these. 

“So, the plan is really find out where that AI is, since he’s not at your home, we’d really appreciate that you tell us.” 

Another cigarette is put out on Tyler.  He gasps, stomach twitching as it dig into the flesh above his ribs.   

  
.00007

  
Somehow, he fell asleep.  His exhaustion caught up with him, and one moment after blinking, he was out like a light.  It sucks, because waking up is hard.  His body is tight and sore, littered with cuts and bruises, teeth marks and scratches.  For a slight moment, he does forget where he is and it is blissful since the bed is soft and warm and his chest is clear, but then his ankles tug on the restraints and he practically feels the smile being slapped off his face.  Tyler rolls his eyes at himself, physically, as all those stupid memories come back into his head at once.  He’s defeated and stuck and finds great annoyance with himself right now. 

He wakes up alone, though.  After the three men left, claiming him to be the infamous Message Man, Jenna played with him, tried to get him to cry and scream.  She cut into his skin, around his neck and collar bones.  He did cry, because it hurt and her fingers burned into his thighs and stomach.  Every hit felt like a lightning strike.  Every cut felt like a gash.  After he did cry and scream, she left. 

 He should swear off drinking forever, but everyone knows that won’t happen.  In all honesty, he should swear off leaving his house after this situation.  Well, he’s first gonna have to make it out of here before thinking of staying home forever. 

Sighing, his eyes flutter shut.  A desert has invaded his mouth, all the moisture being dragged into the sock that is stuffed into his throat.  His stomach turns and twists, crying out for a piece of food.  Finally, his joints… well, he barely can feel those. 

As time passes, he tries to keep his toes moving and fingers flexing, just so the blood keeps flowing slightly more than now.  The rooms he drinks in is just right of boring, but way far from interesting.  Thoughtfully, it was an apartment at first, but the TV on the dresser are both very standard, while there are no pictures or decorations.  The nightstand has a few pamphlets and a very obvious cord phone.  And then it dawns on Tyler that he is instead in a hotel room, rather than an apartment.  It does seem more logical for it to be a hotel room. 

In Tyler’s mind, he could just sit and wait for some random cleaning AI to enter.  Or the setting is on do not disturb and he’ll die in here before anyone comes.  Again, he wishes it, but passively.  He really doesn’t want to die handcuffed to a hotel bed, because once someone walks in, they’re bound to think Tyler’s into some kinky shit.  His murder would probably be coined some dumb name, like, “Hotel Sex Gone Wrong.”  His legacy was gonna always be shitty, but he doesn’t want it to be this way. 

Another few hours pass.  He watches them tick by on the alarm clock across the room.  It might not be the exact time, but damn has six hours come and gone on the thing from when he first started paying attention.  That means it’s definitely morning and the city should begin to bustle soon.  A worker should knock, someone should come soon. 

Someone.

The curtains are drawn, but sun still filters through the little gap they give at the bottom.  Tyler knows he’s on the third floor, so that means the morning must be in full swing by now.  His toes curl and crack, knees stuck for a moment.  His body wants to begin the day, but they can’t.  Fibers screech and groan; stuck, is all he receives in return. 

Between sometime of lunch and dinner, the door begins to rattle and in the ever piercing silence, he hears curses and loud beeps.  Finally, the door clicks and it’s opening.  He flinches, on instinct, nevertheless his feet are stuck, but then a mess of purple hair catches his gaze and his heart jumps out of his chest. 

“Fucking, Ty—what?” 

Josh rushes over, ripping the tape—along with half of Tyler’s skin and hair—off and lets Tyler spit out the now soaked sock from his mouth. 

“Dude, what the fuck happened?” Josh stammers. 

Tyler watches how fast, how _easy_ , it is for Josh to rip open the handcuffs as he continues to ask questions, which none to Tyler answers.  He slinks off the bed and grabs his clothing from off the floor.  It aches, hard, like someone poured cement in place of what should be ligaments and tendons.  Josh is there in an instant, grabbing onto Tyler’s arms, holding him up before he crashes to the floor. 

“Tyler, c’mon,” he grunts, but Tyler doesn’t try. 

“Hurts,” he croaks out and then his body is curled up on the floor, tears tears tears down his paled face, down the superficial cuts left on his neck and chest.  “Hurts s-so much, Josh.”

And for some reason, Josh’s arms are the arms that wrap around him and hold him to a half flesh half steel chest.  An earthquake shudders through Tyler, breaking a dam that has been built up for many years.  It shows through a loud shriek and cry of pain and those large, wet tears that Tyler thought only children could shed. 

“Shh,” whispers Josh, a rhythm of rocking Tyler back and forth beginning.  “You’re safe, you’re safe.”

He knows that Josh is lying, but those words are like candy to a child. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not dead thankfully  
> mental health has been kicking me recently, so idk when another will be up but im glad to be writing  
> please leave comments or i probs will go back into hiding again from shame and thinking everyone hates this lol


	7. I'm Taking Over My Body, Back In Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Why did you kill yourself?" asks Tyler, almost blandly, trying to hide the intense curiosity that's in his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter from holding onto you (regional at best era)

There's a rush of anger that fills Tyler to the brim, and he's not sure why it happens, but it does, and it leads him back to the repair shop where all three of his friend's cars are parked, meaning all three are in there.  Josh is yelling for him, but Tyler's ears are shut as his feet stomp over the gravel lot to the the back door.  It slams behind him and three heads pop up from the abdomens of separate AI's, metal clanging against metal.  

The closest to him, Ash squints at him, opening her mouth, but Tyler shoves the AI in front of her onto the floor.  The noise makes her jump, makes her open her mouth again.  Tyler is quick, though.  

"You wanna tell me who Brendon Urie is?" he shouts at her.  "Or why the fuck your 'friend' Jenna just had me as a _hostage?!"_  

"What are you talking about?" she shrieks back.  Her eyes are wide, fearful, dull.  

"Tyler, calm down," Josh says behind him, a hand curling on his shoulder.  "Don't yell at them; they don't know what happened." 

And as much as Tyler  _wants_ to keep yelling, wants to shove and throw every single object that is around him,  _Josh is right_.  None of them really know what happened in that hotel room and yelling at Ash because Jenna was her friend won't help at all.  He is sure that his friend knows nothing about who Brendon Urie is or what a "Message Man" is.  And if she does, she can help.  

"I'm sorry," he huffs out.  

"It-it's okay, Ty," Ash mumbles.  "What happened?" 

He collapses into a nearby chair, something metal and heavy and uncomfortable, but Tyler's aching body melts into it.  "I don't... I went to drink after you came by," he begins.  "And Jenna was there, so we talked for a while and things were going well, so we went back to a hotel room.  I didn't think much about it, I was pretty buzzed, but she..."  He bites at his lip.  "She cuffed me to the bed and called some guys who talked about a Brendon Urie.  Apparently, he stole from one of the guys and took Josh, too.  They called me a Message Man." 

A silence blanks out 

"A Message Man?" Hayley repeats.  

"Do you know what that is?" asks Tyler.  

"It's a nickname for someone who does business between two rings, like undercover." 

"Like a betrayal," adds Ash.  "That's what most look at it like." 

"And that's what they thought I was?" 

Hayley shakes her head slightly.  "I am sure those kinds of people meant something else." 

"Like what?" he bites.  

"I don't know, Tyler, okay?"  She scoffs and saunters back to her work table.  "Maybe it's not even of importance.  They're probably just trying to fuck with your head." 

"Did you go to the police?" Mark interjects.  

"God, no." 

"How did you get out?" 

"Josh found me," he mumbles.  "How  _did_ you find me?" 

Josh's eyes widen at being put on the spot, but Tyler doesn't help him.  "I just... like, I sensed it?" 

"Sensed?" 

He scrubs at his eyes.  "Like, I felt something.  It was almost like my mind got a message and I followed it to you." 

Mark turns to his table, arms stretching across the metal to scoop up a small rectangular item, something that can fit in a pocket.  Tyler knows it's a surface scanner, one for something of a microchip.  "Turn around," he tells Josh, but Josh moves his wrist out of the path of Mark's outstretched hand.  

Mark's head whips up.  His eyes are narrowed, mouth twisted up in a small scowl.  

"Don't talk to me like that," Josh whispers, his voice shuddering.  

"You're an AI, Josh.  You listen to me." 

" _Mark, don't_ " Tyler stresses at the same time Ash says, "He ain't a normal robot." but neither person is backing off.  Both pairs of eyes are sharp, fiery.  

"You don't realize how much we're all in trouble keeping you in secret.  I could turn you in to the police in  _seconds_." 

"I'll just tell them you're the one that made me."

He scoffs, eyes rolling.  "Take it when you leave, Tyler.  I'm done helping.  I see this thing one more time and I really won't hesitate to turn you  _both_ in." 

Tyler's heart seizes, heat licking its way up his limbs and down to his core, but he swallows the bile in his throat and moves towards Josh.  His hand grabs the AI's wrist, no movement beforehand, and tugs him towards the door easily.  Ash tries his name, tries to stop him, though, Tyler's already blocked out anymore sound associated in this shop.  

.00008

He doesn't drink or leave the house late at night.  He shuts the windows and draws the shades, putting the house on "Do Not Disturb" setting for regular visitors.  Tyler has no energy to be dealing with more of today.  

"Tyler?" calls Josh.  He steps into the bedroom a few seconds later dressed in pajamas he's been borrowing from Tyler.  

He grunts in response.  He's wrist-deep in a scrap AI, not wanting to take his eyes off the wiring procedure.  

"I'm sorry." 

"It's fine," he responds shortly.  

"No, it's not.  I've fucked up your life.  I've ruined your friendships and put a target on your back." 

Tyler doesn't talk, but instead removes his hands from the greased gears and reaches for a towel.  "Mark's a dick, Josh.  He'll get over himself by next week.  As for everything else, I know how to keep my head down." 

Josh is sighing, his shoulders rolling with the large intake of air.  

"Why did you kill yourself?" asks Tyler, almost blandly, trying to hide the intense curiosity that's in his throat.  

"Because I was sad," he mumbles and lies down on the bed, face to the ceiling.  

"Why?" 

He shrugs.  "I was always sad." 

Tyler doesn't return any questions.  

He continues to dig around in the broken AI, fingers grasping at the ends of wires, melding blue and red together, green and yellow together, all while his computer beeps and honks with new connections being made and old ones being broken.  Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Josh situating himself on Tyler's bed, as if he's going to be staying the night, which Tyler's heart sits well with- for odd reasons- but his head blares alarms.  Or maybe that's the computer.  

Tearing his gaze away from the restless AI, Tyler retracts his grease-stained hands from the broken robot and quickly runs a packing wire through the abdomen of the metal, and lets the tool snake its way to the toes and fingertips of the AI to make sure the nerves don't jump while diagnostics are running.  Tyler then wipes his hands on the front of his shirt and pants until he is confident enough to touch other things with his stained hands.  Running diagnostics is a click of a button and the computer awakens and begins to analyze the data that streams into it.  

"I like robots because they don't have emotions," Tyler blurts, wringing his hands together.  "It's easier to work with them.  But you confuse me.  And I'm not sure what to do because one half of you is probably scrap metal melted down into a mold and I want to treat you like any other AI, but then... I also know that you're a very handsome young man and you make my heart do stupid shit and all I've wanted to do is kiss you since you came to in the shop."

His chest heaves in air, and he feels the rush to his head, as the talking filled most of his lungs without having a break.  Josh is sitting up on the bed, probably has been the entire time, but Tyler stares down at the carpet until his vision splits and doesn't bother to fix it.  Josh moves, stands, and shuffles towards Tyler.  Here, Tyler can see that he is shorter than him.  Not a lot, but enough to where Tyler can kiss the bridge of his nose, the tip of his nose, rest Josh's head on his chest.  He doesn't do that now, but instead, skirts his fingers around Josh's neck, his thumb pressing into a soft spot behind his ear.  Josh breathes in deeply, eyes fluttering close.  Tyler's heart leaps into his throat, seemingly hard enough to jolt him forward.  And the two of them are now chest to chest, breathing against each other, mouths resting besides one another.  Fear constricts Tyler, but it also lights his bones on fire.  Josh sets his hands on Tyler's waist, squeezing softly, reminding Tyler that he is real, and so is Josh.  

When their lips meet, their noses get in the way at first, and their lips stumble to find each other, but Tyler leads Josh with the hands that rest on either side of his face.  And it all falls into place like a puzzle.  Tyler shivers.  Josh holds Tyler closer.  Tyler slips his tongue into Josh's mouth, which Josh takes with a small moan of happiness.  They sink into a lull of lust and pleasure.  Everything else in the world fades away to Tyler and he's left with heightened senses that all focus on Josh.  The taste of Josh on his tongue makes his lower half heavy with need and want, but he doesn't want to take this too far.  It's perfect just like this.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um hopefully it wont take me this long for another update lmao


End file.
